


Rabbit

by AbhorrentGodliness



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Feminism, Internalized Misogyny, Not Canon Compliant, Nuka-World Amusement Park (Fallout), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic, lawyer prompt, lawyer!au, lawyer!sole, slower updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentGodliness/pseuds/AbhorrentGodliness
Summary: The intruder slowly approached her car window again and Lena felt the urge to speed off, drive away; get as far away as fucking possible. But if she was a rabbit, then he was a fox; and even if he was a turtle, she knew that story well enough to know the turtle won the goddamn race in the end. So, instead, she sat there, watching his every movement as he leaned down to look at her through the window like the predator he was.HIATUS.Will come back to this eventually. Gotta work out some kinks in the story.





	1. Intimidation

_Click, click, click, click._

The rapid clicks of a dead battery sent a wave of dread up Lena’s chest like a high tide riding up Carson Beach. “Come on, you stupid piece of shit.”

_Click, click, click, click._

It was no use. The car wasn’t starting; as disobedient as a child who wanted a cookie from the jar atop the fridge while a scolding mother stood close by. It meant she would either need to call someone, pay to have her car towed home at three in the morning on a Wednesday, or she’d need to suck it up and walk halfway across Boston to her apartment. None of those things sounded appealing.

But maybe one more turn would do the trick.

_Click, click, click, click—tap, tap, tap._

The clicks dissolved into raps on the driver’s side window to her left and made her all but jump out of her skin like a black cat on Halloween. She turned her eyes to spot the body of a stranger standing outside her car, his knuckles still hovering above the glass; he leaned down then, peering in at her through one eye while the other was covered with an eyepatch. Lena swallowed nervously but rolled down the window just enough to speak to him.

“Doin’ alright?” he asked, the hint of a southern drawl tugging at his words. He was not from here, and she wasn’t sure if that made her feel any better or worse.

The lawyer hesitated, debating on the answer she wanted to give. The two were alone in the underground parking garage, everyone she worked with having left early in the evening while she stayed late to finish up the mounds of paperwork stacked on her desk until she lost track of time. The only other person who remained was the lone security guard, but his patrol into the lot wasn’t due for a while yet.

The man in front of her was someone she didn’t recognize but that didn’t necessarily mean much – she worked for a large firm and was still relatively new there, so she was still getting to know names and faces every day. 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, no,” she finally answered, her voice heavy with defeat; a battle she knew she’d lost with both herself and her vehicle, “My car won’t start.”

“Want me to take a look?” The offer was a relief, needless to say. If he could fix the problem, she would be saving money she didn’t have and wouldn’t need to trek across Boston in the dead of night. All Lena wanted to do was go home and sleep for a few hours before she had to wake up and repeat the long work hours over again tomorrow. Or, later today, rather.

“Yeah, definitely. Thanks.” He circled to the front of the car to stand at the hood, but a dark eye – what color was it? She couldn’t tell in such dim lighting – raised to stare at her for a long moment. He didn’t look away, and she felt herself gulping, glad she was locked safely in her car instead of pinned between him and the metal.

But one of his hands raised to tap on the hood, the sound echoing in the confined space of the parking garage and making her jump. “Gonna need you to pop the hood, Boss.”

Oh. Right. That was why he was staring.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling foolish, but she knew he couldn’t hear the apology. The switch near the steering wheel was tugged and the hood unlatched, giving him access to everything underneath. Lena tried to avoid dealing with the innards of cars – that was always Nate’s thing. He was a stereotypical man and enjoyed all the masculine things men were expected to like – cars, sports, beer, guns.

With Nate around – and the men who came before him – Lena never had to worry about learning anything to do with mechanics. She didn’t even know how to change a tire.

She needed to learn, though. It was time.

Her eyes glanced to the glove compartment, debating on grabbing the gun that was hidden inside just in case she needed to protect herself – something her late husband had instilled in her before he died, as if he knew he would have an untimely demise and she’d need certain skills to survive without him. But the fact the man was helping her with her car seemed harmless enough and she didn’t want to seem _ungrateful_ by suddenly having a gun visible when he’d went out of his way to do a complete stranger a favor.

She settled against grabbing it and instead snatched her phone from the console between the seats. The light illuminated her face as she swiped through a couple unread text messages from Piper, most of them regarding what the reporter was writing about with local politics. Specifically, Mayor McDonough being corrupt and how he didn’t care about the increase in disappearances throughout Boston. The reporter definitely had it out for him, and rightfully so.

But when the passenger-side door to her car was opened – hadn’t it been locked? – and the man who was once beneath the hood of her car was now sliding into it beside her, shutting them both inside the tight space, she felt panic set deep in her bones like arthritis. Her instincts told her to reach for the gun in the glove box, but he was closer to it than she was, and if statistics told her anything it was that it would be used against her in this scenario should she try. Her eyes raised to him, meeting his stare – hazel; the color was hazel – and her hand went to the latch of her own door to open it and give herself the freedom to flee.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said quietly. She froze, gripping the plastic handle between her fingers, hearing the threat of his words even though he hadn’t actually used a threatening tone. “Put your hands on the wheel,” he ordered gently; and she complied, too terrified of what he might do to her if she disobeyed. This man could overpower her and have his way with her before she would be able to scramble out of the vehicle, and they both knew it. He could use her and dispose of the body before she could even get the chance to scream. “I just wanna talk, nothin’ more.”

She didn’t believe him.

The lawyer gulped, saliva getting stuck in her throat like giant pills she took once upon a time when she got deathly ill as a child. But she remained silent, hoping he’d just get it over with – whatever _it_ was – and hopefully leave her alone, without injury. If she were lucky, that is. But she was never one for good luck.

“The man I work for has noticed you’re doing some good work in Boston,” he began, keeping his hands visible on his thighs and his gaze on her, “And he wants to invest in your little… investigation into the Institute.” When his hands raised and one disappeared inside his leather jacket, Lena flinched, preparing herself for the inevitable gun that would be pressed to her temple and splatter her brains all over the car like some sort of sick abstract painting he’d later sell to a museum. Or maybe he’d use a switchblade and slit her throat from ear to ear, leaving her to gasp for air and suffer for those few moments until she bled out.

But when a bulky white envelope was pulled out instead of a weapon, her muscles visibly relaxed – just slightly – and a confused expression washed over her face like a riptide. He dropped it on the center console between them before returning his hands to his thighs; visible, palms flat. “Consider it a gift. Your reporter friend could use some expenses to get down and dirty, and I’m sure you’ve got someone who can go undercover, as well.”

Lena couldn’t take her eyes away from the envelope, but she also couldn’t convince herself to say anything to him. Did he expect her to thank him?

Silence hung in the air, though, and he hadn’t left the car even after clearly completing the task he’d intended to. But when the quiet became too overbearing for her – like a demon sitting on her shoulders, flicking its serpent tongue in her ear to remind her it had absolute control – she slowly raised her eyes to his face, only to find him still staring down at her, almost expectantly. Maybe he _did_ expect a thank you.

He wouldn’t get one.

But he smirked at her instead, a quirk that had a million secrets and probably told a million more lies and Lena wanted to fucking _scream_ , but she couldn’t find her voice. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

“Alright. Hold tight, Boss. Don’t go nowhere.” The words were almost a joke and they set her on edge; as she bristled, part of her wanted to snap back at him with nothing but fangs and venom and claws, but she knew better, and he was out of her car before she could even think of something to retort with, anyway. The man with the eyepatch circled her car once more, disappearing under the hood again. Lena gripped the wheel tightly beneath her fingers – having never been told she could let go – knuckles turning white like water rapids as she waited to see what he was going to do. What he was going to do to _her_. 

The hood shut only after a few moments, the sound reverberating off the concrete walls that kept them in the confined space of the parking garage. He stayed where he was, in front of the car, peering in at her with that intense gaze she couldn’t wait to get away from.

“Looks like a plug was just off your distributor cap.” The words were meaningless to her and he knew it; she could tell he knew by the way the skin beside his eyes crinkled as if he found her lack of knowledge fucking humorous. But even worse, he knew that _she_ knew whatever went wrong with her car was his doing. “Go ahead and give it a try now.” One shaky hand went to the keys that were still in the ignition, twisting them. The engine hummed to life – perhaps the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

Well, aside from Shaun’s first cries and laughs and Nate’s laughs and moans of pleasure when he’d writhed beneath her fingertips. But those were memories of a time long gone; moments taken from her like candy from a baby.

The intruder slowly approached her car window again and Lena felt the urge to speed off, drive away; get as far away as fucking possible. But if she was a rabbit, then he was a fox; and even if he was a turtle, she knew that story well enough to know the turtle won the goddamn race in the end. So, instead, she sat there, watching his every movement as he leaned down to look at her through the window like the predator he was.

“All set. Remember what I said, Leonora.” Her first name sliding off his tongue so casually yet filled with threat sent chills down her spine like a bad horror story she heard as a child. Maybe the one about the guy with the hook hand or the one with the lady who kept a thread tied around her neck her entire life. Whatever the story, they always left her with nightmares, night sweats, and a bad taste in her mouth. This was bound to be no different an experience.

One more pat of his hand onto the metal, this time on the doorframe above her window, and he stood up straight, staring, waiting for her to leave. Intimidating her; daring her to do anything other than what he expected like he were her father testing to see if she’d listen. She could feel her heartbeat thumping in her throat – begging to escape and hide with her gun in the glove compartment – as she switched gears and pulled out of the parking space to exit the lot.

But when her eyes looked into the rearview mirror just before she pulled out of view, she met his gaze once again. He stood in the same spot, watching her, hands in his pockets; haunting. Reminding her of the control he still held over the situation like the demon on her shoulder. He wanted her to know he knew how to find her should she slip up somehow – but she didn’t even know the rules of the game, so she was bound to slip up, and that meant he was bound to find her. But even if she didn’t slip up, he would still find her in her fucking nightmares.

Only once she was down the street with enough distance put between her and the intruder did the absolute terror take over like a tsunami engulfing her shores. Lena parked as she began hyperventilating, tears welling in her eyes and having the gall to smear the eyeliner and mascara down her cheeks even after she’d spent all morning perfecting it. The lawyer shakily reached for her phone again, struggling to scroll down the contact list and read the names through blurry vision until she finally found the right one and tapped it.

The line rang and rang and rang. She knew it was too late to call – who, in their right mind, was awake at three in the fucking morning? Owls. Hyenas. Foxes – like the one who had just invaded her space. Nocturnal predators.

But right now, she didn’t know what else to do; she didn’t feel safe and it was his goddamn _job_ to keep employees safe.

“Hello?” a sleepy, baritone voice answered on the other end and she could almost sigh with relief at the sound. She’d woken him up, but she could feel guilty about it tomorrow.

“Danse?” she replied; a trembling tone that would make a petulant child seem strong, the obvious fear seeping into the speakers. She heard him shift on the other line, and she guessed he was moving to sit up in his bed, wherever that was.

“Keating?” Lena was almost impressed he knew her name after only working together for a few short months. That is, until she remembered he had her contact information in his phone and his tone wasn’t questioning if it was her but more of asking _why the fuck she was calling so late._

“Yeah. I—” she paused, trying to think of how to say it; how to ask him for help. For protection from a man who was stalking her like prey. She could still feel his eyes on her even though he wasn’t around. “I’m sorry to call you so late, Danse. But… something just happened, and I don’t… I don’t feel safe. I didn’t know what else to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Lady_Trevelyan84 for beta reading the first two chapters and giving feedback!


	2. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s alright,” her protector whispered from behind and she could feel his breath on her ear like a warm, breezy day on the beach. He hadn’t let go of her arms yet, and she was glad, because she may have collapsed if he did. “It’s just Dogmeat.”
> 
> “Your… dog?” she asked.
> 
> “Yes.”

She shouldn’t have called him; should have called Cait, instead. The Irish woman could have easily comforted Lena and stayed with her throughout the night to make sure she wasn’t scared and alone and vulnerable. But instead, the lawyer made a foolish decision to call a man she barely knew and had only worked with for a few months – and she didn’t even really work _with_ him since they had completely different jobs – at three in the fucking morning.

But she remembered how he’d handed her his card, their fingers grazing as it was passed between them. He’d told her if she needed his protection or felt unsafe to call him. No matter what.

_“Any time of the day.”_

Danse had stayed on the phone with her the entire drive there, giving her directions to his apartment complex. She could have used a GPS on her phone, but the sound of his voice was comforting, like honey on a sore throat, and helped widen the gap in her mind that kept threatening to bridge between panic and calm. A ten-minute trip and she was parked outside his complex across the street. He’d confirmed he saw her outside through the window, then said he’d meet her at the door – and now stood in the doorway of the building, propping it open with his body. The only thing she could see of him was the shadow of his bulky frame under the streetlamps. 

But Leonora was too afraid to get out of the car.

Her breathing became shaky again as the silky baritone voice wasn’t in her ear to help calm her anymore. The phone shook between her fingers like an earthquake, her hand being the earth and her phone a collapsing building, ready to crumble to the ground. She stared at him from across the street, bottom lip quivering, afraid to leave the confines of a car she once thought was safe until an intruder in an eye patch had proved to her otherwise.

Nothing felt safe anymore.

Danse remained where he was for a few moments until he seemed to realize she wasn’t going to come to him; he let the apartment building door shut before slowly and cautiously approaching her car. As he neared, his features came into view, the light of the streetlamps finally illuminating him like a firefly in the night. The thick dark hair atop his head was disheveled like the only thing he’d done to tame it was run a hand through it; a dark pair of pajama pants, maybe blue or green or black, hugged his hips while a white shirt covered his torso; and, apparently, he hadn’t bothered to put on shoes, so his bare feet padded across the concrete as he moved.

For a moment, she wondered if it felt cold against his toes in the October weather. Maybe he regretted walking outside to retrieve her from her hiding spot? If he did, he never showed it. Then again, Danse never really showed much of any emotion, did he?

He slowly approached her car door, keeping his hands visible and palms facing her as she watched him with wide, cautious eyes; it was like he’d done this before, like he knew she could lose it again at any moment from the fear that was obviously set in her face. Lena heard the gentle click of the door handle, her car beeping as the driver’s side opened and only then had she realized she never shut the engine off.

The door was pulled open and Danse crouched beside her, meeting her height but still keeping his hands in her view while ensuring not to crowd her. Chocolate eyes she could just barely see the color of with her overhead light studied her face for a moment. “I’m going to reach over and turn the car off, okay?” he said, his voice smooth and gentle and calming and she felt like she could melt into it through the waves of panic.

Lena nodded, whispering her confirmation of understanding before he slowly reached in with one arm, flipped the key, and turned the engine off; then slipped it free from the ignition and into the pocket of his pajama pants. She watched his movements like a hawk – no, like a rabbit, as if waiting for him, a predator, to finally spot her in the tall grass and see how vulnerable and exposed she was before going in for the kill.

She was a rabbit; only a rabbit. Never anything but a goddamn rabbit. The man with the eyepatch had proved that to her.

But what was Danse?

His hand returned, but this time, it was extended to her, palm facing up, offering to help her leave the shelter of her car and enter his own. Lena was hesitant despite _her_ having called _him_ for help, but those reassuring eyes and that silky voice whispering _”it’s okay”_ convinced her she would be safe here, with him, even if strange and dangerous eyes remained on her back at all times.

After all, who in their right mind would fuck with her if someone like Danse was nearby?

Leonora grabbed the envelope from the console and stuffed it into her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder before putting her hand into his and accepting his offer to help her stand. He lifted her to her feet, bringing himself to his own at the same time.

The air was cold compared to inside her car; she hated it. She felt unsafe in the open and nothing had really even _happened_. She wasn’t raped, wasn’t injured, wasn’t touched, wasn’t really even _threatened_ ; but the man had made sure she knew he was watching her – that his boss was watching her – and that they knew things about her life.

Her name. Where and when she worked. Piper. _Deacon._

No one was supposed to know about Deacon.

What else did he – they – know?

The car door was shut once she stepped out of the way and Danse guided her toward the apartment building with one arm behind her – never touching, just guiding like she was traversing a maze and he was the hedges that led her to the safety of the other side. Or a dead end. She had yet to figure out which, though.

When they reached the door, he unlocked it and let her in first, holding it open as she ducked under his arm – but she didn’t even need to duck; he was so damn tall and she just was _not_ – and walked inside. Wary eyes darted around the dim foyer, searching this way and that, checking corners and shadows from where she could see. Nate had taught her well.

But he had a reason to.

And now, she had a reason to utilize those lessons.

They climbed the stairs to the third floor before stopping in front of his apartment. Danse pulled out the key again and unlocked it, pushing the door open and waiting for her to enter first – but she hesitated, unsure. What if someone broke in while he was outside? What if someone was waiting in there? What if they were _both_ in danger now?

Their eyes met and she began to feel like he was able to read her mind, or at least her hesitation, as he entered the apartment first. She trailed closely behind him, feeling safer in his presence and the comfort of his body heat because it meant he was _close_ and she wasn’t _alone_.

They were silent as he went through each room – living room, dining room, bathroom, closets, bedroom. Everything was empty; no enemies in sight. No one had infiltrated his home while he was out helping her, and that fact put her at ease. She whispered soft thanks to him and turned to head down the hallway, back toward the living room, retreating in shame from how terrified she was – but stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a dark form walking low to the ground toward them.

Danse had been walking close enough behind her, however, that when she suddenly froze, his broad chest collided with her back in a sort of traffic accident that shoved her forward. Lena gasped, almost letting out a scream mixed with terror and surprise, but large hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled her back before she fell to the ground. She pushed herself further back as the figure grew closer, smashing herself against Danse’s chest as the terror leaked from her, but only when the figure came into the light of the hallway did she finally relax.

A German Shepherd approached, tail wagging and tongue lolling.

She’d always wanted a dog.

“It’s alright,” her protector whispered from behind and she could feel his breath on her ear like a warm, breezy day on the beach. He hadn’t let go of her arms yet, and she was glad, because she may have collapsed if he did. “It’s just Dogmeat.”

“Your… dog?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Your dog’s name is… Dogmeat?” She didn’t need to see his smile to know it was there, but it was comforting, nonetheless. Lena felt her body turn hot as pale skin began to flush, her face turning a shade of pink. She was still pressed back against him, though he either didn’t mind or didn’t care enough to fix it.

“That’s correct.”

“That’s a ridiculous name,” she whispered, staring down at the dog, “I love it.” Dogmeat sat in front of them, tail wagging as he cocked his head and stared up at his master and the new person. But when Lena gasped, the canine perked his ears and Danse gripped her arms just a bit tighter, as if trying to calm her again. “Is… is he wearing a bandana? With skulls on it?”

Her words must have made him relax, and maybe it was at that point he realized he was still holding on to her arms. Letting go, he cleared his throat. “Yes. He enjoys wearing them.”

Leonora leaned down in front of the dog, one hand stretched out, palm up, allowing the creature to sniff her and familiarize itself with her scent before it licked at her skin. The permission made her smile and she reached out, rubbing her fingers over his furry ears as the feeling of anxiety slipped further and further away, like a boat drifting out to sea.

Danse slipped around her despite them still being in the hallway, which seemed to be a bit difficult since he needed over half the space just to exist on his own. But he managed, if not without unintentionally brushing past her as he did, though she wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the dog in front of her to even notice.

“You can sleep in my room tonight,” he said gently as he moved into the kitchen, and her eyes rose to follow him, brows furrowed, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to put you out of your own room. I’ll sleep on the couch. I mean, really, I should just go home; I shouldn’t have bothered yo—”

“You aren’t bothering me,” he interrupted. “I told you to call me if you felt unsafe and you did just that. I am doing my job.”

Lena’s face flushed again, the color creeping up from her neck, and her eyes lowered back to Dogmeat. “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping, Danse. I have to get up in a few hours anyway to go home and shower and get ready for work, but…” She didn’t want to finish the sentence; didn’t want to say she was afraid to go home, even if it was hours after what she experienced.

Creaking caught her attention and she looked back up, seeing Danse had plopped down on the couch with a beer in his hand. “I’ll go with you and stay until you’re ready, then we can head into the office when you’re done. If we’re late, I’ll take care of it.”

It was as simple as that, it seemed.

“But I do need you to tell me what happened.”

Oh.

The lawyer sighed and gave Dogmeat one last scratch on the ears before standing and moving over to the couch, sitting down on the opposite side from him and crossing her legs at the knees. She remained silent for a long moment, knowing this was the calm before the storm; the peace before the war where a nuclear fallout was bound to happen. But she took a deep breath and braved it regardless.

“I got out of the office late, thought everyone had already left.” She was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and he noticed, his eyes watching her fingers roll the fabric around. “When I got down to the parking garage, my car wouldn’t start. It just kept clicking, so I thought the battery died. Then this… guy comes out of nowhere and knocks on the window. Asks if I want help.”

Danse’s jaw tensed; she saw the muscle roll beneath his dark stubble. Lena knew what he was assuming, but he remained silent, letting her finish her story. She was thankful for that.

“I said sure, popped the hood. He kept looking at me weird and I got really nervous. I thought about getting the gun from the glove box, but—” she stopped and began chewing on her lower lip. It was then he turned to finally look at her, his eyes watching her teeth tear at the skin for a moment before he raised them.

“Why didn’t you?” The question was like a knife even though his voice was gentle; she felt as if she’d been stabbed in the leg or arm or shoulder – somewhere nonfatal but still fucking painful.

“Because I felt like maybe I was overreacting or reading into it. I thought it might look bad if he only had the intention of helping, and then when he was done, I just had a gun sitting there.”

His eyes fell again, and she saw the cogs turning; he wanted to scold her, to tell her she should have known better – and she should have. She, of all people, should have fucking known better.

But Danse didn’t know that. He just knew she should have known better because she was a _woman_.

“I looked down at my phone and read some text messages from my friend, and before I knew it, he was in the car with me. Said he just wanted to talk, told me not to run. Didn’t pull a weapon or touch me or anything. Just… he was really calm. He said something about his employer noticing my work and wanting to give me money to help with my investigations into the Institute.”

The last part struck a chord and his eyes raised to her once again, brows furrowed in a mixture of surprise and confusion and panic, something she wasn’t sure she’d really ever seen cross his face because the man had the discipline of a soldier. He knew just as well as her that her work regarding the Institute was not widely known, even among those who worked at the firm. Only a handful of people knew about it. It was safer that way.

Lena reached over to her bag and pulled out the envelope she was given, setting it on the table. It hadn’t been opened; the flap of it still folded in on itself since the first time it had. “He mentioned two of my friends, and one of them is someone who no one should know about. And I mean no one. But _he_ knew.” Tears were welling in her eyes again and she shook her head, wishing she could escape the overwhelming feeling of being watched. Observed. Stalked.

_Hunted._

Like a fucking rabbit.

“What if he comes back, Danse?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She was surprised he heard her.

The couch shifted as he turned his body to face her and a large, calloused palm was placed on her hand; a delicate touch, far too friendly and personal, but she devoured it, nonetheless. “If he does, he won’t live long enough to regret it.”


	3. Overboss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feeling of overwhelming fear was nothing she had ever been used to. Before Nate’s death, Lena was fearless and even reckless; she’d never let that sort of emotion direct her life or influence anything she did. But after her family was stolen from her – after her life fell apart all around her? She lost her balance and fell; crumbled into a million jagged pieces. It was like she’d taken a bullet to the abdomen and was left there to slowly bleed out and die with only the fear of death embracing her – but she never actually died and instead just hung on the edge the entire time. She became a broken fragment of her former self.
> 
> Leonora had let fear consume her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: This chapter has attempted rape/non-con.

“Danse, Mr. Maxson will see you now.”

“Thanks, Bethany.” Danse nodded to the administrative assistant as he stood from the cushioned chair he’d planted himself in a few minutes ago, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving toward the office door with Lena trailing after him. The morning had gone by fairly quickly as he’d accompanied her to her home to check for any intruders or tampering. He’d remained at the apartment with her while she showered and dressed, then they traveled to work together in his car since he said he’d take her home when she was ready. After all, she didn’t plan on staying late again any time soon.

They walked through the door into an office that could only be described as spacious and minimalistic. The colors of the floor and walls reminded her of her childhood home; dark walnut wood beneath her feet and off-white paint splashed on the surrounding surfaces that enclosed the room. A few filing cabinets hugged one side, as well as a regular cabinet with drawers and glass doors on its upper half, though nothing was displayed inside it. The walls were bare of pictures and decorations, preventing the space from becoming more personalized; it was as bland and bare as unseasoned food. A desk held the most basic necessities for any office – a computer, phone, and files spread into neat stacks – and sat in front of a large window that overlooked Boston, providing a breathtaking view. 

In front of the large window, peering through it like a king would his kingdom, stood the person in charge – a man somewhere in his mid-forties with slicked-back greying brown hair and a clean-shaven face. He was thin but held some muscle, and he fit into his suit quite well. Still, he looked just like any other millionaire prick.

“Jonathan,” Danse called from the doorway.

“Danse,” the man replied in a cheerful, friendly tone, turning around to peer at Lena’s protector with blue eyes that reminded her of cornflower. His gaze then turned to the smaller lawyer and the smile that was already on his face widened; friendly but professional. “Ms. Keating,” he greeted. “Please, have a seat.” One arm raised as he motioned to the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk; a fluid, polite movement but commanding, nonetheless. 

They sat and Lena found herself chewing on her lower lip nervously, the skin being taken between her teeth like a beaver gnawing on a tree. But when Danse cleared his throat, having obviously taken notice to her nervous habit, the lawyer flushed and released her lip before looking down, ashamed. 

“What can I do for you?” Jonathan Maxson asked. She’d only met him a few times but each time he was professional and pleasant, something she had to admit was enjoyable.

“Well,” Danse began, glancing over to Lena once more before settling his gaze on the man before him, “Ms. Keating received a visit from someone last night in the parking garage about her, ah… investigation regarding the Institute.”

It was at that point Jonathan’s smile faded like a footprint in the sand after the waves washed over it, the realization of what Danse had said chipping away at his good mood. She began to feel like a damn rabbit again and for a moment, she wondered what Jonathan was – but he seemed to be too cryptic to determine. Almost like Danse. 

“I see,” he said as he pulled the desk chair out and took a seat across from them. “And what did they say to you, Ms. Keating?” While his voice was soft and calm, it was clear he had concern for the topic – no one outside of a handful of people should have known about her project. But clearly, someone did.

“He said his boss was interested in my work and wanted to provide some funds to help move it along,” she answered. Lena straightened her back as if she’d somehow found courage in the bottom of her purse, but she was growing more and more nervous by the second. “And he said my reporter friend could use some money to dig deeper and that I, uh… probably knew someone who could go undercover.”

Jonathan leaned back in his seat, the creak of his chair almost echoing in her ears and making her visibly wince like the sound itself was painful; but he just stared at her, mulling over her words. And it made her _uncomfortable_. 

“He also made a point to tell me I’m being watched; messed with my car and everything. I… don’t feel safe, Mr. Maxson.”

Cornflower blue eyes flicked to Danse, as if the older man were asking for confirmation of whether what she was saying was true, but when he didn’t receive any sort of reaction, he just cleared his throat instead. “Ignore it for now. If he showed interest in the investigation, it is unlikely he will hurt you since that would halt its progress. We’ll check security footage to see if there was anyone suspicious in the building throughout the day and find out who was in the parking garage at that time. Can you describe what he looked like?”

“Tan, hazel eyes, dark brown mohawk. He had an eyepatch, too; over his right eye. And he was wearing a leather jacket.” Lena’s gaze had lowered to her skirt where she was fiddling with the hem – rolling it between her fingers nervously like she had last night. “He also had a southern accent, I think.”

Jonathan nodded while he wrote down a few things on a piece of paper, then tore it off the notepad and handed it over to Danse. “Please give that to Bethany on the way out, Danse.” When the bodyguard nodded and took the paper obediently, Jonathan set his pen down, the sound seeming much louder than it should. He leaned forward on his desk, elbows planted on it firmly while his hands reached up to lace his fingers in front of his mouth. “As for your safety, I believe Danse should stay with you for a while, Ms. Keating. He could stay at your place or you at his but having him nearby will provide you with some protection and, perhaps, peace of mind.”

Lena’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the words, and when she looked to Danse, he didn’t even seem to be bothered by it, instead just nodding his head as if he found himself in agreement. Staying one night out of fear was one thing but basically _moving in_ was something else entirely. “Oh, I…” Both men stared at her, waiting for her to speak, but it only made the nervousness in her face more apparent. Instead, Lena snapped her mouth shut and looked down. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Maxson.”

—— 

Things were mostly quiet for the first month, even though getting used to living with a man again was… difficult. She hadn’t lived with anyone since her family was taken from her; and not even a half a year after that happened, she’d sold her house and moved into an apartment deep in the city so she didn’t have to be reminded of what she no longer possessed. But having Danse move in with her – even if it wasn’t a permanent situation – was disconcerting, to say the least. Sure, she’d had friends who’d stayed the night, or even a few nights – Hancock because he was too drunk or high and even MacCready when he needed help watching Duncan because his job was too demanding with time – but none of them ever _moved in_.

But Danse seemed to have no problem packing clothes and bringing Dogmeat with him despite her only having one room, which meant he had to sleep on the couch – apparently, he was fine with that. Dogmeat, however, had opted for the more comfortable option and snuck in with her each night from the start, deciding that sleeping in her bed was more comfortable than sleeping on the floor. Lena could have sworn she’d heard Danse call him a traitor after the canine had chosen a new sleeping companion.

The lawyer continued her work looking into the Institute, as well, though she tried to keep it as quiet as possible; still communicating with her contacts, of course, but having informed them about what happened and told them to be more careful. The last thing they – and she – needed was for someone to pay them a visit.

But good things never lasted in Lena’s life, which was something she learned the hard way long ago, and it seemed she was due for _some_ type of visit. When climbing into her car one morning in an attempt to drive to work, there was a note sitting on the dashboard, carefully placed like dinnerware at a party. Her name was written on the front while the inside directed her to meet some unnamed person behind a building a few blocks from the Shamrock Taphouse at 2am; it also instructed her to come alone. Of course, when she’d shown Danse, he’d told her not to go because they might try to hurt her if she did – but Lena worried about what might happen if she _didn’t_ go. Not to her, but to the people she cared about and the people she’d involved in this.

The feeling of overwhelming fear was nothing she had ever been used to. Before Nate’s death, Lena was fearless and even reckless; she’d never let that sort of emotion direct her life or influence anything she did. But after her family was stolen from her – after her life fell apart all around her? She lost her balance and fell; crumbled into a million jagged pieces. It was like she’d taken a bullet to the abdomen and was left there to slowly bleed out and die with only the fear of death embracing her – but she never actually died and instead just hung on the edge the entire time. She became a broken fragment of her former self.

Leonora had let fear consume her.

But tonight, Lena knew she needed to overcome her fear – at least for a little while. She’d told Danse she wasn’t going and instead let him believe she was staying home in her room; however, once he’d fallen asleep, she snuck out and made her way to the Shamrock Taphouse, following the instructions of parking her car outside it and walking a couple blocks to the alleyway to which she was supposed to meet the unnamed person.

But when she found the alley empty, she felt her chest tighten and her stomach drop. Something felt wrong. Did she have the right place? Maybe she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. There was a sinking feeling she couldn’t seem to get rid of, nagging at her in the back of her head like some sort of fairy godmother who was telling her to turn tail and fucking _run_.

Just as she turned around to escape back through the way she came, she collided with a body much larger than her own. Lena turned her gaze up to meet the shadowy face of a bald man who just grinned down at her. “Well, hello there, girlie,” he said. He had a thick Australian accent that sent a shudder down her spine; his words and tone were _predatory_. “And just what are you doing here?” Lena began backing up one step at a time, eyes wide, but he only moved forward to keep the distance between them close, prowling after her.

A predator after a rabbit.

He’d snuck up on her without her even realizing it and now was prowling like some sort of large cat. A leopard, maybe.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” he asked, his tone having dropped a little lower.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she replied, her voice trembling like a terrified child’s. She knew she shouldn’t have shown her fear, but god damnit, this was not a situation she was able to hide it in. 

“Oh, well… you see, it’s a bit late for that, girlie. You’ve already found trouble.” The man reached out and attempted to grab her arm, but Lena jumped back just in time for his fingers to close around nothing. She turned on her heel and took off running down the only other exit she could see – an alley that extended between two other buildings. However, in the darkness, it was a little too late before she realized her exit was blocked off by a metal chain-link fence; instead of stopping, she leapt from the ground and onto the fence, attempting to climb it. The thuds of her tennis shoes hitting the pavement dissolved into the clattering of the metal as she landed on the barricade that blocked her exit to freedom. But she didn’t get far before large hands grabbed the back of her legs and yanked her off, throwing her to the ground with a heavy _thud_ that knocked the wind out of her.

The man was quick to get on top of her, pinning her smaller frame to the ground with his larger one and holding her wrists with his hands. “Relax. You’ll only make this worse for yourself,” he growled. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to fight him off; she screamed, hoping someone – anyone – would hear her and help.

But just as a grin crossed his filthy mug, a loud gunshot echoed through the alley, bouncing off the walls and sending a ringing into Lena’s ears. The man’s large body collapsed on top of hers, his hands releasing his grips on her wrists as he went limp. Some blood splattered onto her face and her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open just slightly as she stared straight up at the dark sky above, unable to hear anything but the ringing.

The man’s body was quickly shoved off by someone else as Lena laid there, motionless, despite being free from beneath him; and while that should have given her some relief, she was still in a state of shock from what had almost happened. Her chest was heaving, and she remained frozen, even as an unpleasantly familiar face entered her view from above, leaning over her. One hazel eye peered down at her, the other covered by an eyepatch as the man from the night in the parking garage seemed to be studying her face as if he were assessing the damage. She watched his lips move but heard nothing; he was speaking to her, that she could tell – and as the ringing in her ears began to die out, she was able to hear bits and pieces of his voice, but nothing came through clearly.

He waved his hand back and forth and she followed it with her eyes, but when he reached down toward her, probably to help her sit up, panic kicked back in and she recoiled, scooting her body along the ground and away from him. “Get away from me!”

“Now, hold on there, Boss,” he drawled, and she could just barely make out his words as the ringing was dissipating. Lena pulled her knees to her chest and rubbed one of her ears with her palm, but never took her eyes off him. “Relax, alright? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Hell, pretty sure I just killed my own boss to save you from… well…” His gaze turned to the dead man on the ground, and when she followed it, she saw a bullet in the head of the man who had been pinning her with disgusting intentions moments before.

But her eyes almost immediately snapped back to the one in front of her. He was still alive, and she didn’t want to give this fox the chance to pounce. “He’s… your boss?” she asked, skeptical.

“Sure was.”

Lena lowered her palm from her ear, wrapping both arms around her legs and pressing them closer to her chest. “Why did you kill him?” 

“Well, aside from what he was just doing? He was a shit boss, anyway. Someone was bound to take him out sooner or later.”

But something was wrong here, she could tell. She felt it in her bones, just like when her grandmother would say, _”Leonora, it’s going to rain, I feel it in my bones.”_ If the guy was actually someone’s boss – like a gang boss – he should have had better protection, right? Like in any movie with gangs, the leaders always had protection to keep them from getting killed. But this guy had nothing. Either she didn’t fully understand how gangs worked or the guy really was _that_ shitty of a leader.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” she whispered with furrowed eyebrows. This fox couldn’t possibly make her feel any smaller or more vulnerable.

The man in the eyepatch crouched down in front of her, peering at her silently for a few moments. “The name’s Porter Gage. And I want you to be the new Overboss.”


	4. Wolf. Cougar. Hyena.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The building was entirely empty even though the outside had looked like a regular warehouse. There were no shelves or crates like she’d expected, but instead just a bare concrete floor with metal walls and ceilings. And directly ahead stood three people – two women and one man – and two people on their knees with hoods over their heads with their hands tied behind their backs.

Gage had a black SUV parked on the street right outside the alleyway the incident had just happened in, which she followed him to – though she wasn’t sure she really even had a choice in the matter. He’d opened the front passenger side door for her before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the car on, the familiar hum of the engine almost identical to the sound she remembered hearing the first night they’d met. Or, well, the first night he’d approached her after _stalking_ her.

They pulled out of the parking space and began driving down the street, but it seemed Porter’s talkativeness had dissipated into the night. Normally, that would have been fine with her; Lena had lost her desire to be very social and talkative once she lost her family, but apparently, this man wanted her to be some type of Overboss and didn’t even bother giving an explanation of what that meant nor entailed.

“Porter, was it?” she asked after a long few moments of silence, her voice low as she tried to keep herself small.

“Gage,” he corrected, “Just call me Gage.”

“Oh. Well, Gage… where are we going?”

“To meet the gangs.”

“Wait… gang _s_?” Lena enunciated the ‘s’ longer than usual. “As in more than one gang?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

The lawyer pursed her lips, looking out the window to watch the parked cars flashed by while they drove down the street. “How many gangs?”

“Three.”

“Is that what the Overboss is? The boss of… the three gangs?”

“You got it.”

His short answers were increasingly frustrating her, and she could almost feel steam blowing from her ears. She took a shaky inhale, chewing on her lower lip from nervousness. At this rate, she was bound to just chew it _off_. “I have a bodyguard back at my house, you know. If he finds out I’m missing…” But she let the sentence trail off, not entirely sure if she was wanting to threaten him or warn him.

“We already picked him up.”

“I—” Lena’s jaw dropped, and she looked over to him as he drove. “Wait, you picked him up? Meaning you grabbed him from inside my apartment?”

“Yep.”

“Oh…” Well, now she _really_ didn’t feel safe. If they had grabbed Danse – a man that was fucking _huge_ and basically built for combat – then they could easily grab her, as well, even if her bodyguard was there with her. And that was not reassuring.

“You ain’t got nothing to worry about. You’re the boss now, and so long as you don’t fuck up like Colter did, you’ll be fine.”

“Colter? Was that…?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. Lena nodded and took in another shaky inhale.

\---- 

The drive took about 30 minutes before she and Gage pulled into some sort of warehouse storage area, then parked outside one specific building. Everything looked deserted – there were no signs of people or even cars anywhere. Lena exited the vehicle, trying to remain as quiet as possible since every move they made literally echoed in the area; the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself. Being a silent rabbit was fine for now. She followed him to the door, but as soon as he opened it, bright light poured from the inside, nearly blinding her. The lawyer raised one arm to block it from her eyes until they adjusted to the change, and once they did, she allowed her arm to fall back to her side.

The building was entirely empty even though the outside had looked like a regular warehouse. There were no shelves or crates like she’d expected, but instead just a bare concrete floor with metal walls and ceilings. And directly ahead stood three people – two women and one man – and two people on their knees with hoods over their heads with their hands tied behind their backs. Her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced up at Gage, but before she could even ask or say anything, someone spoke up.

The only man of the group of three stepped forward, a scowl on his face. His head was shaved on the sides while longer red hair was pushed back on top, and he had an almost ridiculously adorable mustache that came to curved points with a thin strip for a beard. But the guy was _huge_ – probably as tall as Danse and definitely bulkier – and had a combat shotgun on his shoulder.

Wolf.

“This lady?” he asked, his eyes staring daggers at the man who brought her there. “You sure, Gage?” His Boston accent was thick, giving away the fact he was born and raised in the area.

Gage opened his mouth to speak, but one of the women voiced her own opinion first, using a silky-smooth tone that Lena felt like she could just melt into. “You better know what the hell you’re doing,” she hissed. When the lawyer looked to see which of the two women spoke, her eyes landed on a brunette whose hair framed her face; dark eyes peering out from beneath dark makeup.

Cougar.

“Hey, we talked about this!” Gage finally snapped back. “She was smart enough and strong enough to kill Colter; she’s what we need. So, how about we show some respect for our new leader, eh?” Lena’s eyes were wide as she stared at the group, though she was unsure whether she was more terrified of the fact she stood in front of four people who could probably kill her within seconds or the fact Gage had just blatantly _lied_ to them about how Colter died.

“She’ll get respect when she _earns_ respect,” the second woman said. Blonde hair was tied in the back of her head with longer bangs pushed to one side; pink eye makeup surrounded blue eyes that Lena could see even from the distance between them.

Hyena.

It was then Lena snapped her eyes up to Gage, brows furrowed, and he looked down at her with a barely visible, mischievous smirk on his lips – then turned his attention back to the three gang leaders before him. “Alright, I’ll take it from here. You three get the hell out while I go over some shit with the new boss.” Though the gang leaders grumbled, they still obeyed and slowly left the warehouse. And once she, Gage, and the two hooded men were alone, Lena returned her eyes back to Porter.

He began moving toward the two men on their knees and Lena began to wonder just who the other man could be. They were both on their knees, heads covered, hands tied behind their backs, and both had bulky bodies – one had to be Danse, right?

But as Gage reached them, he snatched a hood off one, revealing a head of dark hair and two dark eyes beneath it. Lena gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth as if she were trying to muffle the noise that already escaped. “Danse,” she whispered, but immediately dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled the gag from his mouth, letting it rest around his neck. “Jesus, Danse, I’m so sorry,” she whispered again as she cupped his face affectionately. He seemed to study her for a long moment before turning his chocolate eyes up to Gage with a glare. 

“Now, Boss,” Gage began, “There’s some things we gotta go over, so I need you to listen real close, alright?” Lena furrowed her eyebrows and let go of Danse’s face before turning to face Gage, waiting. “First, you’re the new Overboss, so what you say goes – within reason. You’re gonna have to personally introduce yourself to the three leaders soon; we’ll talk about that more here in a bit, but I need you to understand how real this is, alright? Now, I don’t wanna hurt no one, but I need to get my point across on just how serious this shit is. If you fuck up, then that looks bad on me.”

She wasn’t sure she was really following him, but she just slowly nodded her head as if she was.

“You were my choice to take over and I put the gun in your hands, metaphorically speaking, of course. But if you fuck up, we’re all going down. You, me, your boyfriend here, and this guy.” Gage patted the head of the man who still had a hood on, and she only heard a muffled growl from beneath it. “You know who this is under here?” Lena shook her head. “Someone very important and very difficult to snatch, but we did it regardless.”

Gage crouched down to meet her at eye level. “I need you to say to me you understand how important your new job is, Leonora.”

“I—” Lena began, almost shuddering at the use of her name. She glanced over at Danse, but he didn’t tear his gaze away from Gage. “I understand.”

“Alright, good. Like I said – you fuck up, we all die. Including him.” Gage grabbed the hood and pulled it off the other man’s head, revealing a face she actually didn’t recognize. But by the look on Danse’s face, he knew _exactly_ who it was.

“You never met him before?” Gage asked, surprise in his voice.

Lena just shook her head. She locked her eyes with the new man’s, confused. The color reminded her of the sky, a few shades brighter than her boss’. “No,” she whispered. He didn’t recognize her either.

“Looks like your boyfriend here knows him. Wanna tell her who this is and why it’s so important he doesn’t die?”

Danse’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “That’s Arthur Maxson. He’s Jonathan Maxson’s son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated - let me know what you think!


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